Me
by L122yTorch
Summary: Who would have thought that a member of the Pearson Specter "Dream Team" would be lying on the floor, fighting for their life on an otherwise nondescript Thursday afternoon? *Warnings* Violence, Gun Violence (My re-write of "Bite the Bullet")
1. Chapter 1

There was nothing remarkable about that Thursday. Spring was still being held under the heavy thumb of winter, who insisted on dropping five more inches of snow in April. But still, the sun managed to peek through the clouds and bounce off the bright white snow. In no time at all it would turn to gray sludge, then melt.

It was around lunchtime, well, for the firm anyway. A typical lunch usually happened at 1 or 2, and a fair amount of workers had left the floor in search of sustenance. But not the dream team…

Gathered in Jessica's office was Mike, Harvey, Louis and Scottie; and Jessica of course. Somewhere along the line, Louis and Scottie decided to go at each other's throats, using their respective cases and whatever spare mental capacity they had to drop bombs on one another.

Mike and Harvey were just casualties, about to leave Jessica's office when Louis came rumbling into Jessica's office, Scottie in tow. When the verbal mudslinging began, Harvey and Mike stood to leave, but Jessica requested they stay to give their opinions as an unbiased third party. Which was bullshit since Harvey was banging Scottie. But then again, that's exactly what Jessica wanted, to see if Harvey could be impartial.

Their backs were all to the glass, save for Jessica's, which is why she was the first to notice the man in the hallway who was out of place. Her eyes were wide, mouth parted in anticipation, when the man burst into her office. "What the hell…" she started, but stopped…dead in her tracks as she watched the man pull a gun out of his jacket.

By now, all eyes were on the intruder, a charged silence hung in the air. Security guards and cops poured out of the elevators and into the hallway.

The man was sweating but held a steady hand. He glanced quickly at the hall and then at the occupants of the room. "You," he waved the mat black gun at Mike, "walk towards me." Mumbles of protest rose out of the lawyers, only to be silenced by the man. "Fucking walk towards me, NOW!" he screamed.

Mike gave a passing glance at Harvey as he strode in front of him, and towards the man, who reached an arm out to snap Mike up. He spun Mike around, keeping the lawyer in front of him, and backed himself into a corner.

A heavy arm pressed tightly into Mike's neck. Louis looked like he was about to piss himself, Scottie's expression was drenched in shock, and Harvey struggled to maintain his composure.

"And who the fuck are you?" Jessica asked cooly, with an undertone of annoyance. The man smiled, he chuckled, Mike could feel his chest move against his back. "I knew you wouldn't remember me," the man said, shaking his head.

Mike's wide blue eyes bore holes into Harvey's, they wouldn't leave his mentor's face. But he blinked tight when he felt the cold press of metal nestling against a patch of his soft blonde hair. "I'm your worst fuckin' nightmare. But most people just call me Bruce. Bruce Tyler."

The man was panting. He had on a worn grey suit, had sharp spiked black hair and empty grey eyes. For a moment his shifting eyes swept the hallway, making sure that no one could hit him, without hitting Mike, but that didn't even matter, the angles were in his favor.

"And what is it you want Bruce Tyler?" Scottie asked, genuinely, politely. Still, Harvey threw her a cross look for even opening her mouth in such a dangerous situation. But the man just smiled, and looked back at Jessica.

"You buried me in a legal suit a decade ago. Accused me of fraud. Ruined my life."

"So this is some vendetta?" Jessica asked. "If it has to do with my firm, you should take it up with me, and let Mike go," she gestured towards Mike who's face was sick with panic.

"It's not just about your firm, you bitch," Bruce seethed, moving his arm, gripping Mike's neck and squeezing.

Louis must've been looking at the door a little too much, because Bruce said "move, and I blow his brains out."

"Mmmy apologies," Louis stammered, shuffling back towards Jessica. "This is just a lot to handle for a man who just had a heart attack."

"Well cry me a river, Justin Timberlake," Bruce cackled. "Maybe if your boss there didn't get me wrongfully convicted, none of us would be here!" he yelled. His booming voice was deafening in Mike's ears, and he was struggling to breathe beneath the sweaty hand of his captor - his face began turning red.

"I know all of you so damn well," the man grinned, shaking his head, gun still digging into Mike's fine hair. "You put me away for twelve years…my own son doesn't know who I am…my wife left me….all because of you," he looked at Jessica, "and you," he looked at Harvey, "who bent the rules so that you could put another "win" down in your books."

No one said a thing.

"And the cherry on top…? The cherry on top was when you led the suit against my family's own business. As if it's not bad enough I can't get work ANYWHERE, you team up with that scum bag who is discrediting and dismantling businesses so that he can get the real estate when they go under!"

Bruce let Mike's throat go, but kneed him, so that Mike fell to the ground. Then he pistol whipped him in the back of the head. He was on his hands and knees, staring at the carpet, which now spun in his vision.

Harvey took a step forward.

"Ah…ah…ah…" Bruce said, pushing the gun into the back of Mike's skull.

"You were the worst of all Harvey Specter. I even came to court to testify for my family's business, and you STILL didn't recognize me. It's as if I never existed, as if you don't even REALIZE what you've DONE!"

"So punish me," Harvey said, hands motioning to himself.

"Oh, but I am…" the man said, pistol whipping Mike again.

Scottie looked to the hallway for help, but no sniper could get to Bruce at this angle. She stared at her boyfriend in horror at what he had just said. She couldn't even believe that she'd wasted the past two weeks being mad at Harvey…how stupid.

"After that court case, after my family lost their business, I began to study you all…very closely. And for the longest time I couldn't figure out what I could do that could get to you. I mean…my life's already over, what've I got to lose? Nothing! But you…you who doesn't care about anything…what could you lose?" he asked, staring at Harvey with death in his eyes.

Mike gasped, his neck was red, a fresh handprint still indelible in his flesh. His head rang, and blood dripped out of his right ear. Then he felt a sharp tug on his hair, and again, he looked up at Harvey.

Never in his entire life had Harvey Specter felt so fucking helpless.

"The more I learned about you all…the more I realized that Mike was the key. He's the smartest fucking person here, and even more important than that…you care about him Harvey," Bruce said, head twisted, the word "care" strung out in disbelief.

"And even better…he cared about you! I watched him you know…during that time when you wanted nothing to do with him, when he almost became Louis' lackey instead of yours. He stopped eating, barely slept, started using again…what a pathetic little fuck," he mocked.

In an instant he yanked Mike up by the shoulder and spun him, before he could stand, just far enough around to get a punch in. Again, Harvey stepped forward, but the gun was back on Mike, whose face was now bleeding.

"You know what this kid wants more than this stupid job?"

"No…what?" Harvey asked.

..."You."

Tears began to form in Mike's eyes, but not from the pain. Harvey looked at Mike with some emotion that Mike had never seen before - couldn't make out.

"And the fact that you risked EVERYTHING FOR HIM, the fact that you keep his secret, and he keeps yours…is EVERYTHING. HE is what I can take away from you. HE is how I can make you suffer for the rest of your life."

"Don't do this," Harvey's visage cracked. A tear rolled down his face.

"Too late. It's either one of you," he waved the gun at Jessica then Harvey, "or it's him. I'll let him decide," he pulled Mike to his feet.

Mike could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, his head screamed in pain and his legs felt like they were made of jelly. It was like his blood had become ice water, struggling to make it to his heart.

"What do you mean, you'll let me decide?" Mike croaked, his throat burning.

"Ahh…the fun part," Bruce said sadistically. "I really have nothing against you Mikey, I hope you know that."

Harvey's face was tormented, he looked to the hall for help, but the calvary couldn't get a clear shot. He took a moment to look around the room. At the lawyer who had for so long been his enemy, and for what? At the girlfriend he had just begun to fall for. At the boss who believed in him, made his dreams a reality and weathered the storms with him. And Mike…Mike…was beyond words…

"There are only so many live rounds in this gun," Bruce said, waving it slightly. "I'm going to pull the trigger three times, and one of those times, a bullet will be fired, killing either you Harvey, Jessica, or Mike."

"Why would you do this…" Jessica said so low that it was almost inaudible. "I'M DOING THIS SO THAT WHEN YOU WALK INTO THIS ROOM, FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER, THERE WILL BE A BLOODSTAIN ON THE GROUND THAT YOU CAUSED! A LIFE TAKEN IN EXCHANGE FOR MINE!" Bruce shook.

Louis was trying to steady his breathing, he looked over at Scottie who looked back at him. She reached over and took his hand.

Bruce cleared his throat and spoke in a growl. "I'm doing this because no matter which one of you gets the bullet, EVERYONE WILL SUFFER."

"So who is it Mike... you? Or Jessica?"

It was hard to breathe, hard to think, but it wasn't a hard decision.

Mike just stared at Harvey, and blinked at him slowly, like an apology. The gun was on Jessica.

"Me," he barely got out before the gun turned back towards him and he heard it click. He nearly jumped out of his skin, tears ran down his face.

"What a noble man…" Bruce said to Jessica, who was now visibly shaking. "You clearly don't deserve him."

"Stop this," Harvey said. "It's not too late…you don't have to do this."

Bruce just smiled. "That's what the great Harvey Specter has to say huh? Don't do it! What happened to the all-powerful persuader, New York's best closer? And that's all you've got?"

Mike was standing, waiting, trying to focus on something other than Harvey's face, but he just couldn't…Harvey was all he could see…all he wanted to see. He could drown in those warm brown eyes, and he'd willingly go.

"The question remains Mike…what'll it be?"

Mike's once blue eyes were blown black with panic, but there was a stillness beneath the fear, a level of acceptance. He knew that this could very well be the last decision he'd ever make. And there was no doubt in his mind about what he should do…about how he would answer.

The gun was pointed at Harvey.

"Me," Mike said, the gun turning back to him...


	2. Chapter 2

It was a rash decision that was formed and executed in less time than it takes to exhale.

But Mike had to do it.

He knew…he just knew that the chamber was loaded. He knew that there was a very real bullet only moments away from his brain. So he moved.

Mike twisted his body, his chest up against Bruce's, the gun between them. He was trying to get it out of Bruce's cold, sweaty hand; but the man's bony fingers clung to the black metal. Mike's head was still spinning from the blows, his heart was skipping beats from the adrenaline.

It happened so fast.

The gun went off and a deafening roar ripped through the air. They fumbled around and Mike's back was up against the glass wall that separated Jessica's office from the hallway. And in an instant, a mass of black uniforms was flooding the room, pulling Bruce off of Mike. The weapon fell to the floor. Cops were screaming. Bruce was on the ground. And Mike's hand was…wet?

His hand was on his $300 gray shirt, and when he peeled it away it was bright red. Slowly his eyes rose to meet Harvey's. They were blown wide with terror, his mouth hung open in disbelief.

When Mike went to breathe, it felt like he couldn't. In what seemed like slow motion, he lurched forward. He thought he heard Harvey scream "NO!" And then Harvey was holding him, guiding him towards the ground, where he was already headed.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!" one of the cops screamed as they drug Bruce out of the room.

"Sorry…Harvey," Mike breathed, between wheezy rasps of labored breath. "No, no, no," Harvey said. "You're going to be okay Mike," he said, tears rolling down his face, voice hitching in his throat.

Mike was on the carpet, feeling the life literally seep out of him. His feet were towards the glass, Harvey was on his right side and Jessica, Scottie and Louis were on the sidelines; watching in horror.

It wasn't real. This couldn't be real. How could this be real? Mike really got shot, he was really lying on the floor, really bleeding.

Three medics rushed into the room. "Move," one of them said to Harvey, "sit at his head."

Harvey moved.

"'s not your fault," Mike croaked. Harvey was biting his lips, burning tears spilling from his face, "yes it is…yes it is," he whispered.

"What's his name?" one of the medics asked.

"Mike," Jessica answered.

"Well Mike, my name is Jeremy, and I'm gonna help get you through this okay?"

"I hate to do this buddy, but I'm going to have to cut up your shirt," another medic said as he took a scissors to the cloth. Mike could feel it pull and hear it rip. He just stared up at Harvey while Jeremy asked them questions about his allergies…his blood type.

"It's going to be okay Mike, you're going to be okay," Harvey said.

"Harvey…" Mike croaked, a drop of blood escaping out of the corner of his mouth. The sight made Harvey's blood run cold, but he tried to hold it together, lowering his ear to Mike's mouth so that he could hear whatever it was Mike was trying to say.

The paramedics were buzzing around the young lawyer, their hands furiously working to preserve his life.

When Harvey raised his head, after hearing what Mike had to say…he looked…surprised.

A loaded tension hung in the air between the murmurs of the medics and the deafening silence of the lawyers.

Louis couldn't breathe, his face was white. And Jessica's usually stolid expression gave way to grief, shock and fury.

These are the moments that Mike would never remember; the very same moments that the other four in that room would never forget.

"Does this building have a helipad?" one of the men asked, snapping Jessica from her daze. "Yes, yes it does." "Good," the man said in return, grabbing the radio on the left side of his chest. "This is John Schneider requesting communication with the Life Flight Comm Center," the man said.

The radio crackled. "Go ahead Schneider," a voice on the other end replied.

Mike tried to listen, but Jeremy interrupted. "Mike…I'm going to need to clear your airway okay? It's not going to feel too good, but it's going to help you breathe. Can you hold either side of his head - gently?" he pointed to Harvey.

"Yeah…" Harvey said, placing his hands gently against Mike's skull.

The medic snaked a tube into Mike's mouth and down his throat. It burned going in and made some queasy gurgling noises.

Louis couldn't watch, he felt sick.

Blood came out of one tube, the tube was pulled out, and another one was put in that delivered oxygen.

It was too much. The ceiling lights were so bright, Harvey's pained expression was too much, his head hummed in excruciating pain, his chest throbbed in agony, he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, he thought…this could be it. On the floor of Pearson Specter, beneath Harvey's broken gaze, as his colleagues stood and watched. But he was too young…too smart…he had too much to do. That was his last thought before Mike's heavy eyelids slipped shut.

He never heard Harvey screaming his name, right above his face. Never heard the blades of the chopper slice through the thrum of rush hour. Never heard Schneider tell Life Flight that he had a punctured lung. Never felt his body being gently moved onto the stretcher or brought into the elevator, and then the crisp spring air to be loaded into the chopper.

"I want to come, I need to come with him," Harvey said to a medic who's hand was on his chest, stopping him from moving forward. "You can't," the medic yelled over the noise. "There's only room for him and one paramedic. He's in the best hands, I promise."

Harvey felt like he was ready to break apart, shatter into a thousand pieces like glass being thrown violently to the floor. "I need…"

"You can meet up with him at the hospital," he said.

The door to the red and white chopper slid shut, and the convoy began to lift off the pad.

They got back into the elevator; Harvey, Jessica, Louis and the two medics. The ride was slow and Specter felt like there was no air in that fucking metal box.

When it dinged and the doors finally cracked open, Scottie and Donna were waiting in the foyer. Donna had all of Harvey's stuff in her hands, his jacket draped over her arm. Her face was ghost white with bright red streaks beneath her puffy eyes. "Out, out, out" she ordered to everyone in the elevator but Harvey.

"We'll see you guys there," she said, stepping into the elevator with Harvey.

The doors closed.

As soon as they were out of view, Harvey gasped in broken breaths, bracing himself against the elevator wall.

His pulse was beating in his ears, it was like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Donna's firm grip brought him back to the moment. "Harvey," Donna said in her most serious voice. "You have got…," she verbally stumbled, and cleared her throat. "You have got to hold it together," she said, eyes boring into his. She shook her head slowly, still gripping his bicep. "…If only for me. If you fall apart, I'll fall apart, and it'll all go to hell from there."

She rubbed his arm, staring at his face rather than his blood smattered shirt. "Breathe Harvey, just breathe. Slow…deep…breaths." He nodded, taking in carefully measured breaths. "He's stubborn as fuck, he'll be fine," she said, more to reassure herself than Harvey.

"I hope so," he said as the car came to a stop and the doors opened.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride to the hospital was excruciatingly slow. It was around 4, so you'd think traffic wouldn't be bad, but this is New York City…

"What the fuck is going on?" Harvey growled, his breath struggling past a tightening throat. "There was an accident sir, I'm trying my best…"

"It's okay Ray," Donna reassured. She turned back to Harvey and gave him a knitted brow of disapproval. "Keep your head Harvey."

"Are you kidding Donna? Keep my head? Mike was shot!" he yelled, bringing a hand up to loosen his tie. The redhead clenched her jaw and averted her gaze to her lap. It was a rare thing to see Harvey Specter like this. She shared in his helplessness, but couldn't afford to let herself succumb to emotion. If she did, she'd crumble completely.

"Got to get this fucking thing off" Harvey said, haphazardly yanking at the blue tie around his neck, to no avail. Then he stopped, and for a moment, Specter looked down at the piece of fabric he was struggling with.

The tie was brand new – he didn't usually wear blue. But it wasn't blue anymore. The azure tone had smatters of blood across it, turning the bloodied areas purple. It was a good thing that he hadn't eaten lunch, because he could taste his stomach on the back of his tongue.

Donna looked up just in time to catch the look of realization and horror that flitted across her boss' face. Not only was his tie marred with blood, but his gray suit was also awash in it. Flecks of red dotted his pants, covered his sleeves…

"Here, let me help," Donna whispered, scooting forward and bringing shaking hands up to Harvey's tie. She slipped it off easily enough, and began pulling his jacket off as well.

Deep breaths filled the small cabin of the car as Harvey once again felt the sensation that he couldn't breathe. He had to remind himself that it was just an illusion – that he was fine.

The tie was off, as well as the jacket, but the vest also had deep red stains on it, so Harvey shucked it off.

Luckily, they were making some progress down the construction and accident riddled streets – but it was still taking too long.

"Harvey," Donna's voice snapped him back. "Stop looking out the window, it only makes it worse. Lean back and close your eyes."

"Donna…I don't need…" "Do it!" "Fine," he resigned, leaning back and closing his eyes. But it didn't make the situation better, because all he saw in the black darkness behind those heavy lids was the expression on Mike's face. He could feel Mike's weight against him as he fell forward into his chest, he could feel Mike's hot breath against his ear when he whispered to him. He could smell the metallic blood as it pooled beneath Mike's blonde hair.

Tears escaped from the confines of his closed eyes and slipped down Harvey's hot cheeks. He balled his hands into fists and waited for the car to stop driving, for his world to stop spinning.

They reached the hospital an hour later; the first ones to arrive.

On the roof, Jessica told the pilot to take him to the best hospital…and they did, though it was a little further out.

Harvey barely waited for the car to come to a stop before he was out and jogging into the hospital. Donna tried her best to keep up in 5" heels.

The halls seemed to stretch on and on in an endless maze of fluorescent lights. The walls were an unassuming shade of algae green and the passageways smelled of disinfectant and desolation. There was a whole host of faces that passed by in a blur.

Finally, they made it to the correct desk.

"Mike Ross," Harvey commanded, breathless, "where is he?"

"Are you his family?" The woman behind the fake wood, half circle desk asked nonchalantly. Harvey's mouth was dry, and his wide eyes swung over to Donna.

"No, we're his lawyers…and his employers, and his friends. Where is he?" Donna recovered.

"Let me see," the woman replied, calmly clacking away on her keyboard. "Mr. Ross is currently in surgery."

"Do you know anything about his condition? How long will the surgery be?" Harvey raced. "Who's the doctor? Or doctors?" Harvey could barely catch his breath; he could feel his heart beating behind his eyes, in his throat, at the tips of his fingers.

"I know that there's a lot going on right now Mr…"

"Specter."

"Mr. Specter, so I'm going to give you this 'authorization for release of information' form to fill out, along with these patient information and insurance forms and have you take a seat in a private waiting room," she said, shuffling a novel's worth of papers together and straightening them out on the counter.

Just as Harvey's mouth parted to protest, the woman said, "while you get started on these, I'm going to find someone who has more information than me, and I'll send them in to talk with you."

"Okay," he said, nodding, reluctantly grasping the stack of papers affixed to the dirty brown clipboard.

"The waiting room is right over there," the woman said, pointing to a room on the other side of the hall with glass windows looking in on the small space.

They walked over, entered, and Harvey gracelessly plopped himself into a stiff green chair. The arms were plastic, and he tried, and failed, to balance the clipboard on one of the arms. So he held it in his hands instead.

"God…Harvey," Louis' voice entered the room. He looked up to see Louis, Jessica and Scottie walking in. "What do you know?" Louis asked. "Nothing much," Harvey said bleakly, "just that he's in surgery."

The trio took a seat. They looked ridiculous – dressed to the nines in a room with paper cups and peeling wallpaper. The space was warm, over-heated. Harvey put the clipboard on his lap and went to roll up his sleeves. But the sight of more blood stopped him.

Unbelievable. Mike's blood had seeped through his jacket and appeared in spots on his white undershirt. It stood out starkly against the crisp white background.

He felt sick…thinking of what made that blood spill. It was so quiet in that damn room that he could almost hear the bullet tearing through Mike's flesh. But when he returned to reality all that could be heard was the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall. It must have been a mirage, a lie, because time wasn't actually moving.

Harvey tried to fill out the first form, but he couldn't see straight, he couldn't focus. When Donna saw his hands tremor, she took the pen from him. "Here, let me do it," she said, taking the clipboard as well. Furiously she began scribbling in information.

Her pen and the clock were the only noises in the room.

They all raced there just so that they could hurry up and wait. Jessica was stone still, Scottie was rubbing her hands together and Louis was tapping his foot.

"This is ridiculous," Louis finally broke the silence. "They still haven't come to talk to you?"

Harvey looked up at the clock. "It's only been fifteen minutes Louis." "Yeah, fifteen minutes too long," the man bolted up and out of the room. Someone was about to get a verbal ass whooping.

In his absence, the remaining troupe sat silently, and Harvey exchanged awkward pitied glances with both Jessica and Scottie.

After about seven minutes, Louis returned with a young doctor. He was probably a student, in the room to assist and learn about the surgery. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he started. "Mr. Ross is stable for the moment," he dove right in.

Harvey edged to the precipice of the flimsy seat beneath him, carefully caught on every word being spoken.

"He took one shot to the left lung. Luckily, it was the bottom area of the lung," the young man brought a hand up to his own chest to indicate the location. "His lung collapsed and we're working remove a very small area of the left lung. It's a six hour surgery – at least." He continued on after that… but Harvey was zoning out.

His lung collapsed. They took part of his fucking lung out.

Seeing the color drain from the lawyer's face the man made sure to mention that it was a very small portion of the lung that they had to remove…maybe an inch, or two?

"I'll let you know if anything changes," the doctor said before disappearing out the door, leaving an ocean of disbelief in his wake.

Harvey gulped but his throat was so dry that it clung to itself. The room seemed smaller, and the lights brighter. It was as if the walls were closing in. "I need some air," he said walking out into the hallway, not even noticing Scottie's footsteps behind him.

He made it down a hallway and a half before she managed to get a hand on his shoulder. "Harvey!"

He turned and faced her. "Talk to me," she breathed. "Tell me how you are."

A beat of silence passed between them. 

His face twisted up. "How do you think I am?" he said incredulously.

"What can I do?" she pled.

"Nothing," he said bitterly.

"I can at least be here for you Harvey…"

But that's not what he wanted. He wanted Mike. He wanted Mike to be there for him. That's who he'd turn to if he were dealing with some other catastrophe. And it was his fault. It was his fucking fault that Mike was even here right now…in this situation. He wanted to take that bullet; he should have taken that bullet.

Harvey shook his head for a moment before looking up at Scottie with brown eyes drowning in defeat and despair. "I just want to be alone," he said, turning, and continuing on down the hall – his shoes clacking against the green speckled linoleum floors until he was out of sight.


End file.
